Halloween
by Miffle
Summary: Hermione is alone in the common room... or so she thinks. Random humour, written as a songfic to Aqua's Halloween.


Disclaimer: Not mine. Nope. Not a thing. Well, except the plot. But everything else belongs to other people who aren't me.

Rating: K.

A/N: This is a songfic to Halloween by Aqua, which explains the abundant randomness. I wrote this aaaages ago and it's just been sitting in my documents, waiting for Halloween to come along. And come along it has! So, happy Halloween, everyone, and I hope you enjoy the story :D.

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It was Halloween, and down in the Great Hall all the students of Hogwarts were having a special celebratory feast. All, that is, except for one Hermione Granger, who was trying to finish a particularly tricky Potions essay.

As Hermione flicked through her textbook, searching for the page on knotgrass, her phone rang. She assumed it was her parents; being muggles they had no better way to contact her when they wanted to, so when she picked it up she answered with an absent "Hello?"

"Remember me?" an eerily familiar voice drawled back at her. Hermione was so shocked she almost dropped her phone, but gripped it just before it fell.

"Who's there?" she asked, a hint of fear in her tone.

Instead of a proper reply, the voice on the other end of the line helpfully informed her, "I've got your number."

As if she hadn't worked that out.

But Hermione was too scared to think of the stupidity of that statement, or of her response.

"Oh no! No!" she cried, dread clutching at her like icy tendrils.

"I'm back – to haunt you!" These words sent shivers of terror rushing down her spine.

"No! Stay away!" Normally, Hermione wouldn't be losing her cool so easily, but the current circumstances were far from normal. They were like something from her worst nightmares - not that she usually had any nightmares but that was beside the point.

The only reply she got was a cackling laugh, which remained with her long after the phone went dead.

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Hermione's head was beginning to clear itself of the mind-consuming fear that had overcome her earlier. She could now see how awfully clichéd the whole situation was; Halloween on a Friday night and she gets a sinister phone call from an unknown terror.

She had to admit, though, it was pretty disturbing. Looking out of the windows she could see the grounds far below. The darkness of the night made everything look creepier, though she supposed that was just her imagination running away with her.

Suddenly there was a flash of lightning, followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder. Hermione jumped out of skin before getting a hold of herself. She should have expected it, really, what with the evening being so cliché and all.

She found herself wishing that the others were there, or that she with them, but quashed that thought immediately. What good was it to wish for something that was probably not going to happen? Judging by the way the evening was going so far, Hermione guessed she'd remain alone for the most part of night.

She wondered why the feast was lasting so long, and could only assume they were having an extra-special feast due it being Halloween on a Friday 13th. That, or Dumbledore had finally breathed his last breath and collapsed face-first onto his plate. Stupid old coot had lived for far too long anyway.

Despite her best efforts to keep herself distracted, Hermione couldn't prevent the fear threading its way into her very core. She was scared, no doubt about it, and all she could do was wait to see what was to happen next. Which was, of course, absolutely dreadful as there was nothing for her to do but dwell on the utter awfulness of her situation. If she'd taken a moment to think, instead of dwell, she may have realised just how un-Hermione-like she was being, but she likely wouldn't have cared. Her mind was very much preoccupied with other more pressing matters and she had little time to worry about how different she was being to her normal self.

All of a sudden, the candles went out. The only light remaining was the vague light of the moon, which barely illuminated the windowsill, let alone Gryffindor common room.

And all Hermione could think was that the evening was just getting more and more clichéd. It was like that girl had a one-track mind.

The sound of shoes creeping around the room halted that line of thought, however. She had the vague hope of it being another Gryffindor returned form the feast. Neville, perhaps, who would probably have had enough of the teasing from the Slytherins, or Ron, only coming back to stop the others moaning at him for pining after her.

But Hermione wasn't stupid. She could tell that it must be an intruder, from the way he slunk round the room and cast unnatural shadows, which seemed to move at their own will, as he passed the window. And of course, as this night seemed set on becoming one big cliché it rather demanded that he be a stranger.

The jarring sound of tic-tac-ticking disturbed her thoughts, and led Hermione to wonder when they'd installed a clock in the room. They probably hadn't, she reasoned. It was most likely put in by the creeping man, so as to add dramatic effect.

Somehow, that thought sent her hurtling back from her consideration of the over-used dramatic devices, to the more urgent matter at hand – the strange man creeping steadily closer to where she was standing. She had forgotten the danger she was likely in, and as fear gripped her once more, the moon disappeared behind a cloud leaving Hermione to flounder in total darkness.

And then, in true clichéd fashion, her phone rang. Guessing she knew who would be on the calling end of the line, but wishing so much that it wouldn't be so, she pressed the accept call button and held the phone up to her ear.

She hadn't needed to, really. She could hear from where she was every word that the caller was saying, as he was in the same room as she, advancing upon her tauntingly slowly.

"Now I can see you," he hissed into the phone, probably knowing full well that he didn't need it. Stupid clichéd bad-guys and their stupid clichéd drama, she thought, even as she responded, in a typically clichéd way:

"Oh no! Please no!" Since when had she become such a "damsel in distress" type person, anyway?

"Now I can touch you," he hissed, obviously deciding that repetition was a good dramatic device.

Hermione felt something brush against her and with a hastily concealed shriek she leapt backwards, trapping herself in the doorway.

"Oh God, please go!" She was practically begging, but she didn't care anymore. She'd do anything to just get this creep to leave.

"I'm right here now." It seemed the owner of the voice possessed a startling ability to point out the obvious.

"Oh please, tell me where!" She would have laughed at the amount she'd used 'oh' in their dialogue, if not for the dire circumstances.

Hermione heard the click of a door locking and realised that he must have somehow locked the portrait hole. It was quite inconvenient, as she could hear the faint sounds of merry Gryffindors making their way up the staircases. She assumed that the other occupant of the room had too.

The cackling laughter was let loose once more. It seemed this stranger was rather clichéd himself.

"I'm in a nightmare," Hermione groaned. This seemed, in fact, to be quite truthful, though unfortunately for her it was far from.

"You better run – I'm back to haunt you down!" he crowed at her.

Hermione needed no further prompting. All thoughts of clichéd Halloweens forgotten, she screamed as she ran around the figure that would haunt her nightmares, if she had any. She barely avoided his clutching hands, reaching for her as she sprinted for the dorms.

In the distance Hermione could vaguely hear the Gryffindors banging on the portrait and demanding entry, completely oblivious to the drama unfolding within. Trust them to return at the dead of night, she thought bitterly. She guessed the occupants of the other houses had already returned to their beds; only the party-loving students of Gryffindor house could possibly remain in the Great Hall all night.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" the seemingly disembodied voice called out to her, jolting her back to her situation within the common room.

It appeared the moon was not willing to extricate itself from the clouds just yet, and in the pitch-black darkness Hermione could rely only on her memory to guide her to the girls' dorms. If she were lucky, she'd be able to get up the staircase before being caught by the shadowy figure grasping randomly for her. Then, him being male, he'd be thrown back to the bottom of the stairs and unable to reach her. If only she could be lucky just this once!

She thought that if she had nightmares, this was what they'd be like. She then thought of how much more often her mind was wandering from her situation, when normally she could stay focused on even the most boring of History of Magic classes. Must be the fear affecting her brain, she decided.

The intruder must have gotten bored of her standing, undecided and absent-minded, at the foot of the staircase, as he tauntingly called out, "Keep running! Keep running!"

There he goes with the repetition again, Hermione thought dryly, before realising that she really should keep running, lest she be caught by the decidedly clichéd evil being nearby.

Taking an unusual risk, Hermione dashed up the stairs she was standing in front of, not taking the bother to work out which lead to the girls' dorms and which to the boys'.

And then, all hell broke loose. It was Friday night; the Gryffindors were pissed (in more ways than one) and desperately wanted entry to their common room. Dumbledore, who had evidently failed to meet his demise during the feast, had been summoned to try to sort out their problem, and his attempts at opening the portrait hole had alerted the trespasser to the presences without the common room. The being was torn between halting their efforts and continuing the hunt for Hermione.

Hermione had realised, almost as soon as she began to run up the stairs, that she'd chosen the wrong staircase. Typical. But this hesitance of the fearful man below her gave her the perfect opportunity to run to the other stairs. The only problem being that Hermione, too, was hesitating.

Just as she was about to dart onto the other staircase, all those, in and out of the common room, heard some strange noises. All were completely distracted and looked about for the source of the noise. It seemed to be coming nearer, and the once mess of sound was now discernible as moaning and groaning. Completely confused, there seemed to be a search on both sides of the portrait for the origin of the sounds. Soon enough, it was spotted. A hoard of deadly looking zombies was passing by, as was typical of a Hogwarts Halloween.

Everyone quickly reverted to their original tasks: the Gryffindors mobbing; Dumbledore trying to break in; the stranger seeking out Hermione; and Hermione trying to figure how best to sprint to the girls' dormitory staircase.

In a frantic panic, Hermione yelled out the first thing resembling a threat she could think of to the shadow moving about seemingly so close to her. Unfortunately, the first thing resembling a threat that Hermione could think of just happened to be quite non-sensical. That didn't stop Hermione from yelling it though.

"My Candyman, from Bountyland, is coming here to get me!"

Hermione's hunter abruptly stopped, completely put off. If he hadn't been such a clichéd bad-man he'd have said, "You _what_?" in very undignified manner. However, he was, and kept such unbecoming thoughts to himself.

As soon as he paused to work out any hidden meaning in her words, Hermione ran for it. She shot down the stairs she had been crouching on and up the others, leading to the girls' dorms.

At last! she thought. I'm safe from that horrifying being. Yet she still heard the words of her pursuer as they floated up the staircase.

"Creaking and squeaking, I move silent in the night." Hermione considered that to be quite the oxymoron but kept her mouth shut and let him continue his rant.

"Could be the boy from next door; you'll never guess my disguise!" That was true, at least. She'd no idea who he was, and it was quite likely that he was just another student playing a horrid prank on her. However, the strength of the magic used on the portrait suggested otherwise.

As he cackled his evil cliché of a laugh, Hermione thought she could hear the Gryffindors start a drunken brawl in the corridor. The cackling creep seemed to pick up on this fact too, for he continued his monologue with a reference to them, and for some strange reason, the Hogwarts Halloween decorations.

"Kids and children fight! Pumpkin and candlelight!" he screeched up at her.

Hermione paid no heed to his haunting shriek, instead thinking dryly that the aforementioned light was still unavailable to her. Nevertheless, she picked up on the muggle reference in the next instalment of his speech.

"You might be the fearsome one at Junior High tonight!" This indicated, to Hermione, that this was more than just some random Halloween hunter – this man seemed to know more of her family and background than she'd care to imagine. He must have stalked her for quite some time, to have found out so much.

She heard vague murmurings coming from the bottom of the staircase, and she edged towards it a bit, to see if she could distinguish what was being said. The man seemed to be trying to break the spell preventing boys from going up the stairs. He seemed to be succeeding.

Hermione was shocked that he could break such a powerful spell. Hurriedly she looked around the dorm for an escape but none became immediately obvious to her, and then he was bounding up the stairs and entering the dorm and towering over her.

Now that she could see him close-to, Hermione could make out that he was indeed wearing a disguise. There was something slightly familiar about him – perhaps it was in the way his hair hung down around his masked face, or in the way he seemed like he could tower over her even if she was standing at full height.

Yet she didn't bother to think through who it could be as the figure seemed about to unmask himself. This caused Hermione to whimper in fear; this was surely the end! He'd remove his mask, gloat a little, then blast Hermione into oblivion, as was the way of every clichéd horror story.

The drunken mass of Gryffindors, who seemed to be getting more and more drunk every minute (the twins must've brought the firewhisky with them), were silenced by the piercing scream Hermione let loose. Even Dumbledore, deaf as he was, paused in his battering of the door at the sound.

And what had caused Hermione to make this ear-splitting sound? Hermione looked on in terror as the figure ripped off his mask. There, just as midnight struck, stood one man who she'd never expect to prank a poor student. One man who would make use of as many clichés as possible, if the opportunity arose. One man who, even un-disguised, could scare the wits out of any innocent person.

One man named –

"_Snape?!_"

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A/N2: This is my first fic, and first songfic come to think of it, so I'd love to know what you all think of it. It's unbeta-ed, but I think I caught most of the errors. If you do spot one though, do tell me so I can feel embarrassed and correct it as soon as possible. Constructive criticism is, of course, welcomed.


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